


Special Mission

by storiesfortravellers



Category: James Bond (Movies), White Collar
Genre: Humor, M/M, Sex, Spies & Secret Agents, antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond and Neal Caffrey meet in Monte Carlo and New York, mostly because of a mission.  Some threats, followed by an agreement, followed by sex, with some humor thrown in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on lj.
> 
> For E for a prompt: crossover with WC and James Bond, possibly they meet in Monte Carlo.

The short gray-haired woman walked into the room and raised an eyebrow at Neal. Even Hughes tensed up at her presence. Even Hughes' boss seemed nervous around her.

She stuck out her hand and said, simply, "M."

Neal shook the hand and grinned at her, saying, "Em. What a lovely name. Short for something?"

Peter made a choked noise before saying, "Neal! Stop antagonizing her before she kills you with her pinkie!"

"Indeed," M answered, her gaze hard on Neal, right before the tiniest smile of satisfaction turned up the corners of her mouth. 

"He'll do," she said to Hughes and Hughes' boss, and to Neal, "Mr. Caffrey, it's time we debriefed you. I want my agent back and you're going to get him for me."

 

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo

Neal could feel it. The moment the man's features stopped bothering to hide their anger, the moment that suspicion became more.

The moment 007 knew Neal was cheating.

One of the best thrills of Neal's life. 

Neal just smiled back, unflappable. Pretending that he was still trying to be charming, though both knew that the stakes had changed.

 _This is why people still love Monte Carlo after all these years,_ Neal thought, _the animal roaring out from where it's stuffed into the tailored tuxedos, the fire of real competition, brutish and raw, right below the surface as fingers delicately lift the stem of a crystal champagne flute._

The man excused himself and walked away. Neal did as well, pretending to go in the other direction.

As Neal turned a corner he found himself pulled into a small side room as a hand clamped around his neck.

"Who are you?" the man demanded, eyes blazed in suspicion.

Neal choked out, "A friend."

"Why would a friend give me a seven EVERY SINGLE HAND?"

Neal remembered the code words, "It really is a fine fall day."

007 gazed piercingly at him. _Damn, did MI-6 pick them right,_ Neal thought for just a moment before he remembered the pressure on his windpipe.

"But surely sir you know that it is spring," 007 said. 

"Yes, of course, I've travelled to the Falklands recently," Neal said.

"I hope your business there went well," 007 answered and let Neal's throat go. Neal tried not to choke too much as he smiled.

The spy gave him a narrowed-eyed look and then said, observing, "You're not one of us."

"Helpful friend," Neal said, trying to grin as he still coughed a little, "They needed someone who could handle this scene but had no connection."

He gave Neal a brief nod before saying, "Tell M I'm fine." He started to leave.

"Our friend actually had a message for you," Neal said, and 007 slowly turned around.

"Well?"

"Um.. well, her exact words were 'Tell that idiot Bond that if he doesn't personally contact me within the next forty-eight hours, I will assume he is either rogue or too much a pain in my arse to tolerate, either way, I'm going to personally strangle him with piano wire.'"

007 nodded, as if that were exactly what he expected to hear. He smirked then, and said, "Piano wire. She always was a music lover."

Neal smirked back, "She actually kind of reminds me of the guy I work for."

A smile. A gorgeous dangerous smile. 

"Tell M I'm not rogue. I'm close. If I live she'll be pleased with the results," he said, and then the spy gave him another nod and silently slipped out. Neal waited so they wouldn't be seen together and then left too, breathing heavily, fear and adrenaline and something else coarsing through him, leaving a mist of sweat on his skin and a blade-sharp memory of the game in his heart. 

Neal reminded himself that he had to go home soon, back to the job and the radius and the rules, the dulling sense of security that had no right infiltrating Neal's mind.

Neal decided there was time for a few more winning hands before flying back.

 

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo

 

Months later, 007 strode in to place the reports on M's desk. He had been to New York City chasing down a lead, and all had gone as hoped.

Bond had also ran into that Caffrey fellow, and not without planning on Caffrey's part, James knew. Neal wasn't connected to the mission, but somehow he had contacts that let him know who was new in town.

"Yes?" M said, noticing he was still standing there by her desk.

"I ran into the man you sent me in Monte Carlo."

M raised an eyebrow. Archly, she responded, "I sent a message through him. You make it sound like I tied him up in a bow and mailed you to him."

James maintained a smooth facade that would have fooled anyone except his boss. "Caffrey said, 'Tell M the answer to her question is Classically Modern.' He wouldn't say more."

M looked perplexed for a moment, then allowed a hint of a smirk. "Yes. When I debriefed him, he was very eager to volunteer to contact you again. Unusually so. When I told him that we do not normally need consultants who refuse to use firearms, he said that having excellent taste is a weapon all its own. I dismissed him by saying that if I ever needed advice on how to decorate my flat, I would be sure to contact him. I suppose he's one of those chaps who only notices sarcasm when he wants to."

007 stared at her, a little uneasy. "Is that all?" he asked.

M looked up at him, her stare penetrating and keen. "For heaven's sake, Bond, you didn't bed an American conman just to get decorating tips, did you?"

James' jaw tightened as he remembered spending half the mission infuriated by Neal Caffrey. The man showed up all over and always pretended not to see Bond until he shoved Neal up against a wall and demanded to know what he was doing here.

"I have a message for M," he would say, "But I'm not sure you're the man I should give it to."

Bond would know that this was a scam, he knew that Neal Caffrey may not be a civilian but he was far from being in 007's world. Caffrey was just a fool who thought to dip his toes into a darker world, thinking it was all adrenaline and gilded halls, and Bond told him exactly where he could go. But he kept seeing Neal everywhere, until finally Bond angrily spat, "Tell me then, Caffrey, if you have a message for M, tell me!" His arm was pinning Caffrey, small but compact, to the side of a building, in the walkway just out of sight of the road. 

Neal grinned and said, "What do I get for it?"

007 moved his other hand to cup Neal's groin. He squeezed Neal's balls just enough to make Neal groan. 

The bastard smiled at Bond. Actually smiled. "That's a good opening offer," he had the nerve to say.

Bond tasted him then, his mouth rough and pushing at Neal's mouth, tongues and teeth and sounds from Neal's throat, and maybe a few grunts from Bond too. He squeezed Neal again and watched his darkened eyes before dragging Neal to a secluded alley and fucking him, both of them standing, Neal facing the wall with Bond pushing into him fast and hard and angry. 

When it was done, Neal composed himself, brought his pants up to his waist,straightened his clothes, and smoothed his hair into its perfect place. He grinned, still panting. 

"Classically modern. That's the answer for M. She'll know what it means."

"You wanted to tell me all along," Bond said, wondering if he should be knocking Neal unconscious to teach him a lesson, or charming him into spending the night in his hotel room.

"Of course," Neal said, "But I hear you government types like to earn what you get." He kissed Bond, quickly, oddly chaste, and then left. 

Days later, every time something touched his mouth, it reminded him of Caffrey.

But M was standing there, asking a question she surely knew the answer for.

"No," Bond answered simply and changed the subject. 

Technically, he told M the truth. It hadn't involved a bed.


End file.
